


Parks and Recreation Drabbles

by ashisfriendly



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: F/M, Twister - Freeform, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-30 06:49:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5154266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashisfriendly/pseuds/ashisfriendly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr drabbles mostly! Just for some fun. Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prompt: Leslie/Ben Playing Twister

Ben’s tired and the fluorescent lights of the community center are starting to give him a headache right behind his eyes. He should do more to help everyone clean up from the One Day Only Summer Fun Extravaganza!!! but he just needs a bottle of water from the vending machine. Hopefully Pawnee puts water in their vending machines, it wouldn’t surprise him if they didn’t.

“Ben!” Leslie squeals and he blinks, the muscles between his shoulders tensing. “Ben, come play! I beat everyone.”

He looks around the large room and everyone else is cleaning quietly and slowly. Ron is taking bags of trash (mostly colorful construction paper clippings and scraps and lots of glitter) out and Tom is nowhere to be seen. April and Andy are throwing a Nerf football back and forth while Ann picks up the piles of magazines from collage making.

Fine, this even was a good idea and the donation bucket was overflowing. Fine, fine. But he still has a headache.

“Ben!”

He finally looks over at Leslie. She’s wearing a pair of jeans and a baseball-t that has paint and glitter all over it. She got her face painted earlier in the day; he remembers watching her sit there, smiling as the artist (a friend of Leslie, as they all are, he’s come to find out) drew a pink and purple butterfly on her cheek. He almost got a Batman symbol painted on his own cheek but got distracted by a dodgeball outbreak before he could go through with it.

Her shoes are gone and she’s wearing light blue socks with a pattern of brown ponies and rainbows. 

In front of her is a Twister mat. That would explain the lack of shoes.

“Play me! I’m very good.”

Ben hopes his neck isn’t red from thinking about her twisting around on that mat. How did he miss her playing this? Was this during the whole situation with some guy named Greg Pikitis that Ann sent him to deal with?

“Oh, I don’t really--”

“Come on, please?” Leslie jumps up and down, her pigtail buns bouncing and he notices one of the wings on her butterfly is smudged.

“Okay.”

Leslie claps her hands and squeals, “Yay,” as he walks up to her and his headache is still buzzing in his head, but it is dulling a bit. 

She warns him again about her talent as he toes off his shoes. He tucks his tie between two buttons on his shirt and rolls his shoulders. He looks at Leslie, ready, and she looks away quickly, moving to pick up the spinner.

“Left foot blue,” Leslie announces and Ben steps onto the mat. She does the same, wiggling her toes.

“Nice socks,” Ben says.

Leslie grins but shakes her head as she flicks the spinner. “Don’t try to distract me.”

Right hand yellow, left foot red, left hand green.

Ben’s headache starts again as he bends over but he fights through it. Leslie smells like vanilla and something like deodorant. She giggles when she turns her body so she can position herself like she’s crab walking. She asks him to spin because of her balance and he goes easy and agrees, even though he should use it as a way to sabotage her.

Also, it means he has to reach over her. He can feel her breasts along his stomach and she inhales, only pushing her chest closer. Ben spins and quickly moves back.

“Right foot red,” Leslie says.

They move and laugh their way through a few more spins. Ben forgets about his headache and they start bantering, trying to convince the other to, “Just give up,” even though they aren’t struggling yet. He teases her and she laughs, she bumps his hip with her elbow to sway him to the ground. He pokes the soft spot in her side between her hip and her rib cage and she bursts out laughing and wiggling. She doesn’t fall but Ben’s stomach does a little.

“Right foot green!” Leslie announces, laughing.

Ben looks at his options and laughs along with her. This might be what brings one of them down. 

“You first,” Ben says.

“No, you go.”

“I insist.”

She’s giggling and nudging him with her elbow again. “Please, good sir, go.”

“No, you.”

“You!”

“Fine,” Ben laughs.

He pushes off his right hand and launches himself forward sideways as he twists his legs. He’s losing traction. He whispers a curse and wobbles but reaches out for Leslie’s shoulder. She squeals and calls him a cheater and Ben holds onto her longer, convincing himself it’s to bring her down and not to feel the heat radiating off her body. He’s started sweating, too. Ben clenches his stomach muscles and pushes forward, sending his torso over Leslie’s body, one hand still strong on the ground while his other lands on the other side of her. On green.

If he moves his head a little to the right he could kiss her. If he slides his right hand up and lets go and loses this game, he could touch her arm, her shoulder, maybe push his hand through her hair. It’s a little wispy from the day and God, it makes her beautiful. A day of work looks perfect on Leslie Knope.

He keeps his head turned away from her but it doesn’t help whatever’s bubbling in his chest right now. It’s sending waves of electricity through his body and his heart won’t stop hammering in his ears. Leslie’s chest is expanding under his and he can feel her breath on his neck, in his ear. He swallows a moan when he hears her lick her lips.

“I” -- she clears her throat -- “I don’t think I can get to green.”

“Are you claiming defeat, Knope?” He hopes his voice sounds strong and cocky and not at all like the shaky mess he is.

Leslie leans up and he inhales when she speaks directly into his ear. “You wish.”

Ben turns to her and their noses brush before she can look away in time. He closes his eyes and sighs, trying to get himself in control, but then she starts moving beneath him. How stupid of him to think she’d give up like that, as if a whole human body over her could prevent her from accomplishing the impossible. He arches his back to give her more room as she squirms beneath him, grunting and cursing and giggling in a beautiful chorus that makes him need to close his eyes and think about baseball stats.

“Ah ha!” Leslie yells. 

She’s curled up beneath him and hardly holding on, her fingers slipping and sliding over her own green circle. She could go down easily, and Ben really should just nudge her and end this ridiculous game, but as usual, she surprises him and makes him want more.

Ben reaches and spins. Right foot blue. Right foot red.

They curse at the same time. Leslie’s is a little more PG-rated and it makes Ben’s heart skip.

“No, no, wait, this can work,” Leslie says. She explains their moves step by step, and Ben listens, nodding along the way. First Ben has to untangle his legs and turn into his own version of Leslie’s crab walk. He spins around and while his foot is in the air, Leslie does her own spin and takes her foot over him. They land their right feet on red at the same time. 

Their next words come out in sync again.

“Crazy kangaroos.”

“Good Lord.”

Leslie’s legs are straddling his lap, her torso flat against his. He can’t move any farther away without his ass hitting the mat, causing him to lose, and she can’t get any further away from him because of her short legs. He can feel the round of her ribcage, the nice perk to her breasts, and he’s lost in her sky eyes and rosy lips. She’s been biting her lip like she does sometimes when she’s mad at him or thinking of a way out of one of his “No”s, turning her mouth a nice, deeper pink. She blinks and looks down to his lips and he mirrors her glance.

“Maybe,” Ben whispers, “you should spin.”

She nods, but doesn’t move. He licks his lips and she falls a little onto him, her forehead barely touching his. Ben pushes his chin up so their noses touch. His arms begin to shake, but he pushes up anyway.

Ben yelps as Leslie pinches his side and he reaches his hand up to grab her but he loses balance and falls. Leslie is laughing, the sound echoing off the walls of the community center. Ben flattens out on the mat in defeat, trying to get his heart to beat in a normal rhythm and forget what her nose felt like on his or how perfect her lips looked to taste.

“I win! Suck it!”

Ben looks up at her as she springs up, wiggling her hips and pumping her arms. He wants to be mad and call her a cheater, but he can’t stop smiling at her as she bounces around in victory.

Ron walks up to her, not all fazed by her dancing and gloating. “Congratulations. Are you ready to go?” he asks.

“Rematch,” Ben says, throwing his fist in the air. 

Leslie turns back to him, eyes narrowing. “You’re on.”

“I don’t care,” Ron says, dropping the keys at her feet. “Goodnight to you both.”

Leslie grabs the spinner and flicks the arrow, eyes locked on him. Ben smirks at her, stomach burning. She takes a step toward him. The fire in her eyes terrifies him but also makes him want to devour her.

Instead, he’ll play this game. Hopefully he’ll win this time.


	2. Prompt: Leslie/Ben Dialogue Prompt

Leslie pushes him away, the tingle of his lips still strong along hers.

“Oh fuck, oh FUCK.”

“I’m sorry, shit, I’m sorry,” Ben says. He puts his hands on his hips, head hanging.

“I have a boyfriend.”

“I know, I know--”

“And you can’t do that to someone who has a boyfriend.”

“I know, okay? I know!” Ben runs his hands through his hair, leaving it a mess. Damnit, he looks cute like that. “Fuck.”

Leslie starts her very well rehearsed speech. The same one she’s given herself in the mirror, with only a few changes. 

“I have a boyfriend, we can’t be together. You’re very nice, and you’re” -- Leslie swallows, looking away from him -- “very cute and your butt is small and compact and I just can’t be with you.”

“Why?” Ben asks. It’s such a sad voice, one she’s never heard from him before.

She tries to keep her heart together.

“Because, it’s not right.”

“You can make it right,” he says.

“Ben.”

“Leslie.”

His face is slack, his eyes soft and sad, eyebrows squinted down. His hair is still in disarray, his shirt untucked from her own fingers. He’s so small, he almost looks as young as he did in that picture she would stare at when she was 18. 

“I won’t kiss you again,” he says, putting out a hand like he needs the physical reminder to stay away. “But come on, that meant something.”

It did. She has senses. She knows how his kiss made her feel, how he he smells like clean, simple soap and like he just drank lemonade. How he had that sharp intake of breath when their lips connected; the sound won’t stop ringing in her ears. Then there’s how he looked right before, so hopeful and cute, everything she sees when she closes her eyes at night.

She swallows and watches her fingers twist together. 

“I know.”

But Justin. Justin is going to take her to Paris and to Rome and anywhere she wants. He’s going to marry her, she found the ring, and God knows the proposal is going to be elaborate.

“He wants to marry me,” Leslie says, as if this news won’t break Ben into a million pieces. As if it won’t do the same to her.

“I want to marry you.”

It’s the softest, harshest, most desperate whisper she’s ever heard. She raises her eyes, peeking at him behind her bangs. He’s taken a step closer.

“Ben.”

“I do. I want to. I want to watch you step into the White House and I want to watch you eat waffles every morning.” He grabs her hands and he’s worried he’s going to break his promise, she’s worried he’ll kiss her. She’s worried she’ll let him. “I think we could make amazing children.”

Her brain is buzzing, the world tilting, her heart racing. Everything is too much and not enough all at once. She wants him to kiss her and she wants him to leave and never come back. She wants him to wipe whipped cream from her mouth in the mornings and kiss the top of her head at night. She wants to rip herself open and let the pieces fall and decide her fate for her.

“You said you wouldn’t kiss me.”

“I’m not.”

He’s not. But her mouth is inching toward his and she can see the bob of his Adam’s apple before she closes her eyes. She pushes up on her tiptoes and their mouths touch, unmoving.

“No, no,” Leslie whispers. She pushes a little, their lips sliding. “No.”

“I’m sorry,” Ben says and he wraps his arms around her waist and Leslie opens her mouth. He groans. “Marry me,” he says as her tongue slides along his teeth.

“Yes.” His hands are in her hair and he pulls a little before bringing her closer. She’s upside down, weightless, perfect. “Yes.”


	3. A Signal: An Assassins AU Coda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a follow up drabble to my assassins AU, [Everything](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1115188).

“Follow me.”

Her voice was rough and quiet in his ear. He pushed the pad of his thumb across the rim of his glass, wiping the salt on his tongue. He dipped his head down close to his wrist and mumbled, “Copy.”

Ben grinned at the bartender as he reached into his back pocket. The bartender turned back around as Ben left a couple bills under his glass. He stretched his back a little, taking this moment to button his blazer closed and take a sweep of the room. He caught Leslie’s bright head of hair walking toward the north exit, her shoulders strong and pale, the thin straps of purple dress digging just enough into her skin. Their target, Edward Robertson, had his hand on the small of her back.

Something burned in Ben’s stomach. He was used to the warmth, the sinking and twisting rise in temperature that swirled deep in his gut. He’d experienced it for years now, and having Leslie his completely, his didn’t make it go away.

Ben followed them through the exit and out into the parking lot. Ben scratched the back of his neck, turning his head into his arm. 

“The parking lot?” Ben asked with a sigh. “Come on, Leslie. This isn’t secluded at all.”

Leslie’s right shoulder moved up into a shrug only Ben would recognize. She shook her head, her loose curls brushing over the other shoulder. Robertson pulled her into his side and his hand slid up into her hair. Ben walked faster.

“Fine. Fuck the pedestrians and cameras, I’ll murder him myself if he doesn’t stop touching you.”

Leslie leaned forward and he heard her laugh, not a real one, and she fell out of Robertson’s grip and she held onto his arm instead, sliding her fingers down his arm until she gripped his hand.

“Thank you.”

She tilted her head to the left and slinked her arm behind her back and crossed her fingers. It was quick, her hand back at her side in a blink, but it was enough. 

_“We need a signal,” Leslie said one night months ago in yet another hotel room. She was only wearing one of his white t-shirts, her legs dangling off the side of the bed, her head in his lap. “Something that says, ‘I love you and I’m sorry bad things are happening.’”_

_“Signals compromise missions.”_

_Leslie pushed off the bed and sat back on her knees, crossing her arms. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun and her face had just been scrubbed clean during her shower and she smelled so fresh and looked so beautiful, he thought he might explode._

_“Signals compromise missions,” she teased._

_“What? They do!” he said, grabbing her waist and pulling her into his lap. She pushed her chest against his. Her body was still warm from her shower, hair wet and smelling of vanilla._

_“I want one, just in case.”_

_“Just in case?”_

_He shouldn’t have asked for clarification. The idea that one of them could die any day they go out together was a thought they often avoided and he liked it that way. Thinking about it was impossible._

_Luckily, she ignored it, too._

_“Come on, please?”_

_“Okay.” He kissed her nose and then her lips before he pulled back and raised his right hand, crossing his pointer and middle finger. A beat passed between them and Ben felt the room grow heavy, the air between them thicker, and he swore he could hear her heart beat faster._

_She raised her hand and crossed her fingers and the air calmed and his heart slowed and everything felt okay._

_They decided to keep it with a kiss._

In the parking lot, Robertson pushed a button on his keys and two headlights flashed a couple feet away and Ben stopped, turning to a car that wasn’t his as if he was going to get in it. He half heartedly searched for his keys in his jacket, keeping his eyes between his fake keys and Leslie.

“Oh wow, I don’t think I’ve ever been in a car this expensive,” Leslie cooed, the dripping want in her voice making Ben wince. 

Ben rounded the car he was temporarily claiming and walked around the other side between another two cars. He watched Leslie grab Robertson and pull him toward her, their bodies smashing together. She giggled again, some terrible foreign sound that sent shivers down his spine.

Leslie kissed him and it hurt, it always hurt. He blinked, shaking his head to help keep himself focused. Her leg moved up Robertson’s and he watched their kiss deepen before he looked away, following the quiet trail of her hand to her thigh. Ben’s chest constricted, his eyes following her every move. Soft, quick, elegant, and meaningful in every muscle. When her blade was free she moaned, and like a work of art, his hand went around her arm, down to her waist, giving her range to get to his throat. 

“Do it,” Ben begged. He couldn’t breathe and his heart was so loud in his ear.

Her hand moved to their throats, the blade sliding through the air between them, and she pulled her arm back with a quick, beautiful slice. 

Gorgeous, perfect.

Robertson’s body went stiff and his hands moved to her but he could touch her, couldn’t get to her blood soaked skin, hair, and dress. When he fell, he tried to hold on to anything but he just left a smear of his own blood down her front. Leslie looked up until her eyes found Ben and it was like something switched inside him. His blood slowed through his veins and his brain cleared the images of Leslie’s strong arms and quick hands and his vision tunneled. He got to work.

Later, after he led her up the stairs to his barely used condo, he finally decompressed. He wrote the report in the car that drove them here, took a few deep breaths as he helped her get out of the car, and finally felt the post assignment buzz leave when he wrapped his jacket over her shoulders. 

Leslie stepped into his condo, clean and boring as usual, and headed straight for the bathroom. Ben locked the front door and followed her to the bathroom, catching the sight her bloodied dress fall to the ground.

He picked up the dress and put it into the sink and then began to undress.

Leslie turned on the shower and stood waiting, her skin streaked with dried blood. There was a slash of it across her cheek Ben tried to get off with the sleeve of his shirt but she pulled away from him, telling him not to ruin his shirt. Leslie started the shower and they waited for the water to warm, Ben’s thumb rubbing over her shoulder, tracing blood and freckles.

“You did great,” he said.

“Thank you.”

Ben wrapped an arm across her chest and flattened his front to her back and they both exhaled. His free hand slipped over her stomach and up her chest, then he held it in front of her face, crossing his fingers. She leaned forward and kissed them.

“Thanks for not being mad about the parking lot,” she said, checking the water temperature.

Ben kissed her temple. “‘I’ll do what I need to do to get the job done, Agent Wyatt.’” Her inability to actually follow protocol was infuriating, but her saying those words to him after their first assignment was what made him fall in love with her. 

He followed her into the warm water and helped rub the blood off of her skin. Ben massaged the suds into her muscles, rubbed over her shoulders to her breasts and she leaned back into him. He thought about everything she had done, all the power she had in her small frame, and the bravery that was always held in her beautiful features. He slipped a hand down her torso and she widened her stance to let him touch her.

He traced her, pushed into her, and circled her clit. He inhaled the citrus of her soap and the stream of warm water and the soft, slickness of her skin. It was all so much and he sunk into her until she held onto the wall with both hands and he helped support them with one of his. He kissed her neck and breathed her in until he couldn’t wait to feel their bodies connect. 

Ben took her waist in his hands and turned her around.

“I love you,” he said, turning off the water. “You’re incredible.” He gripped her hips and lifted her, her legs and arms wrapping around him, tight, so tight, so beautifully tight.

She still had soap on her and he didn’t even get a scrub down, but he didn’t care, and if she did, she showed no signs of it. He let her fall onto the bed and kissed up her stomach until his lips were on hers and he was perfectly lined up with her opening. 

He pushed and she clutched onto him. He fucked her, kissed any piece of her he could reach, and Leslie arched her back and he loved every piece of her he could touch.

“I love you,” he said, sitting up on his knees, wrapping her legs around his waist. Leslie took a deep breath and Ben squeezed her thighs with his fingers, scratching his nails over her legs.

He looked down at her, her curved breasts, lean muscles, freckles, and the sunlight that seemed to radiate off of her. Leslie rolled her hips and bit her lip, stretching her arms above her head, begging him to move on. Ben pinched her leg and she smiled, so big and bright it nearly caused the world to fall from beneath him.

But it didn’t. Not until she put her hand on her chest and crossed her fingers.


	4. In the Clouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hana prompted: WRITE ME SOMETHING SEXY || DC era smut!

“Don’t stop.”

She’s begging and panting, but it gets her absolutely nowhere. Instead, he slows down, his thrusts are painfully slow with a soft rock to his hips that completely contrast the earth shattering thrusts he was delivering before. His thumb stops completely on her clit, too, and she can’t help herself, she practically has a temper tantrum, slamming her fists down onto the mattress and letting out a high pitched growl-whine hybrid that she’s sure makes her sound childish, but she doesn’t care.

She really wants to cum, damnit.

“B-e-e-e-n-n-n!” Leslie whines. 

She’s been without him for weeks, left with only Skype dates and dirty texts and he’s pulling this? It’s unfair! Ben doesn’t say anything, but there’s a smirk on his lips as his eyebrows go up and his free hand motions in the air and everything about him says, “I’m innocent.” 

He’s not. He’s not at all.

For the last hour -- yes, hour -- Ben Wyatt has been building her up and letting her fall. He’s done this once or twice before, patting her butt when she whines and then giving her what she wants, or doing this playing the innocent puppy dog thing until she just pushes him down and gets things done herself.

This time, though, she’s so tired from the build up, that her limbs are numbing and all the energy she had, she just wasted in her angry outburst. Ben is still slowly rocking in and out of her and it feels incredible, he always does. He’s perfect, long and smooth, and she’s quite positive they were made to fit together, but none of that matters right now. She needs the release. She needs more than just their perfect fit and his steady hips, she needs to scream and have every single muscle contract and release in waves until she can’t move and she can do nothing else but sleep.

“Is there something you need, Ms. Knope?”

His voice is playful, but still low and rough like each syllable is made of fire. She arches her back as he picks up one of her legs and kisses the inside of her ankle. The stubble is good, adding to the list of sensations she’s craving.

At least with her leg now closer to his head, he’s getting in deeper.

“I need you to stop being a jerk,” she says.

His smile grows and his head falls a little and he takes the opportunity to kiss her leg again. He leans forward just a tad, adding more pressure and depth and then speeds up a little.

“Yes,” Leslie says, sighing.

Ben keeps at the pace, pushing a little deeper with each thrust. Leslie angles her hips so she can get him as deep as she can, hitting a spot inside her that he’s only been able to find. Ben may not be the biggest she’s ever had, but he’s the only one who’s taken the time to figure her out; explored every inch of her body so he could find odd places along her skin that make her crumble with a press of a thumb or a scraping of teeth, the only one who has taken the time to pull up her hips and adjust, the only one who would make her cum once, twice, maybe three times with only his mouth and then proceed to fuck her senseless. 

He is the only one.

Ben’s thumb pushes on her clit but doesn’t move, only creating friction from the movement of their hips. It’s intense, though; combined with the steady, deep rhythm of his thrusts, it feels more monumental than before. Leslie gasps and pushes off the mattress, onto her elbows, and Ben groans with her movement. 

She’s clenched around him and she can feel all of him now. She can tell he’s struggling to keep the slower rhythm. His muscles tremble, from his legs, to his hands, and he’s biting his lip to keep his own voice in control. He’s not a quiet man in bed, but he likes to listen, and he’s very focused, so he’s quieter than most, at least in the pool of Men Leslie’s Been With. 

Now, he’s making sounds. They’re muffled moans behind clenched lips, hisses between teeth, and the occasional swear. He lets go of her leg but Leslie keeps it high, enjoying the angle, and the way it looks against his chest. That’s the other thing about this position, she can see so much more. She can see his taught narrow frame as he stands at the foot of his temporary DC bed. The sweat at his temple and how it moves down his jaw and along his neck, how his chest is red, the clenching of his small muscles in his stomach, the way his dick is wet and smooth as it moves out and back into her. She can see the indentations in her flesh from his fingers.

The thumb on her clit moves again, slow circles this time, and she’s shaking now. Her leg falls off his chest but she can’t even move it back, lost in every single, microscopic sensation that’s overtaking her. There’s the depth and rub of his dick inside her, the pressure and circles on her clit, the sounds of their bodies connecting, his breathing and small, strangled moans caught in his throat, how his free hand slides up her body and he grabs her breast a little too rough, only to let go and let his fingers drape over the sensitive flesh there and somehow, that adds a whole new element.

Leslie tires to keep watching, but her eyes are fluttering, her head falling back. She’s climbing, and it’s the slowest one of her life. That’s not to say it’s the hardest, it’s as if she’s really on an escalator in the most beautiful park in the world, crawling slowly and effortlessly toward the sky so she can fall into the warmth and soft weightlessness of the clouds. She almost tells him not to stop, but something tells her, even if he did, she’d still get to where she wants to go.

He does slow a bit but she clenches around his dick in protest. It doesn’t speed him back up, but it does cause him to talk, or in this case, growl.

“Fuck, Leslie.”

It breaks his silence completely. He’s moaning, mouth open, sounds escaping from his chest in low tones. He’s still fucking her so slowly, but she doesn’t even want him to speed up, she wants to feel every inch of him and every miniscule thing she can. His fingers move over her breast and her eyes snap open, locking with his. He says her name and she responds with his and they do it again one more time. She can hear the missing in his voice, the longing, the happiness that they’re together again even if it’s just temporary. She hopes he can hear it all in her voice too.

She doesn’t know when it happens, but suddenly she’s there and her eyes are rolling in the back of her head and his fingers slip from her breast. Her muscles are clenching just like she wanted, but they keep loosening and tightening over and over in a soft rhythm as she rides her orgasm. It goes on for a long time, longer than any other time she can remember, and when Ben picks up the pace of his hips and the shake and release of his own orgasm rolls through, it’s like hers responds and follows him to the end. Until they’re both in the clouds.

Ben falls forward, pulling her up in the bed and snuggling into her, kissing her neck and her cheeks and into her hair. He’s breathing hard between kisses and he’s heavy on top of her, but in the best way. She smiles, feels him throbbing inside her, playing along with her own pulse.

He holds onto her as they turn onto their sides, facing each other. He slips out and Leslie clings to him and he tangles their legs together. 

“I missed you,” Ben whispers against her lips and kisses her.

She hums her response because he won’t pull away to let her speak, but she doesn’t mind, and he must’ve gotten the message. The kisses are slow and unfold at a steady pace, slowing when they start to drift off to sleep. Something always triggers them to wake again, their lips sliding against each other, tongues soft and warm. 

Hours pass like this. Soft kisses and tender fingers, the slow rock of hips and the pressing of bodies. Leslie falls asleep but Ben kisses her awake like a modern day prince. Ben starts to snore and Leslie’s teeth nibble his bottom lip and he smiles into a kiss before they get lost in each other again. It’s a vicious cycle, one that doesn’t end until the sun is up and Ben’s traveling down her torso.

She slides a hand through his hair, smiling down at his sleepy, happy face.

“You’ll need to get ready for work soon.”

Ben kisses her hip, then just below her belly button. He opens her thighs, his gaze shifting from between her legs, to her eyes.

“Being the boss has its perks,” Ben says, kissing the inside of her thigh. “For instance, I’ve decided I’m not going in until noon.” He kisses her other thigh and then moves down, down, down. “Due to a late breakfast.”

Leslie giggles until they catch in her throat and turn into moans, and her rise to the clouds starts once more.


	5. For Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: I thought I might cheekily ask for a fingering prompt .. Since its you fave ;) Maybe in public? Devious benslie shenanigans in public !

“Leslie.”

His voice is muffled against her lips, swollen and sweet with a slight tilt. He knows that angle, it’s her devious one. The one that gets him caught in coat closets and backseats.

“Councilwoman Knope,” she says, breaking their kiss just enough for her to correct him.

He growls, grinding into her hand that doesn’t seem to want to stop rubbing him over his pants. Ben is just drunk enough, just happy enough, just delirious enough, to not be concerned about the crowd of people partying on in the next room over. He’s not even sure how they got into this weird hallway that is definitely for employees only, but it doesn’t matter. Not when she’s riding the high of her win and he’s so fucking terrified of his future, and all he wants to do is cling to her.

“I love you,” he says, his fingers finally doing something productive and undoing her pants.

Her touch moves up his chest, gripping his tie and pulling him closer, somehow their tongues working deeper. The music thumps as Ben turns them, so Leslie’s back is against the wall instead of his and he slides his hand underneath her panties and dives in.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to take his time, or that he doesn’t know that warming Leslie up, teasing her, lining her, and rubbing her everywhere but where she really needs him isn’t the best thing in the fucking world, but he’s desperate. Desperate to touch her, feel her body tremble and hear her breath hitch. She curses when he rounds her clit and he tells her that’s not how a Councilwoman speaks and she bites his lower lip so hard he tastes blood.

Ben slides his fingers lower, curling into her. She bucks her hips, widens her legs, and tries to kiss him. He dodges her lips, sneaking his own down her neck. She groans, trying to find purchase on the wall, or his suit. She grips his jacket and holds on while Ben develops hickeys on her neck that will keep the Pawnee Sun talking for weeks.

Let them. They’re already outted and despite it all, she won, because of course she did. She’s Leslie fucking Knope, and he loves her, and if it’s such a scandal, he’ll marry her, and when she runs for president, he’ll eat her out while she practices her opening statement. Nothing new there.

Ben hears voices or laughter, but Leslie’s breathing is going faster and she’s quiet, nothing but breaths and tight fingers. Her muscles tighten and loosen, tighten and loosen, and he keeps his rhythm, pressing just a little harder on her clit with his thumb. Leslie says his name so quietly it’s practically just a breath and he kisses her just as she shatters.

They kiss as he removes his hand from her, rubbing his fingers on the outside of her panties before buttoning her pants. Then he cups her face and kisses her deeper, teeth bumping tongues as they smile and laugh.

“I’m going to miss you,” he says, nose brushing hers. “Tell me not to go.”

“You have to go,” she says. 

Ben can hear the sadness in her voice. He knows Leslie would want him to ignore it, pretend he can’t hear it, but it’s impossible. He kisses her and when he pulls back, she looks braver, more certain, those blue eyes clear as a summer sky.

“You have to go.”

“Okay” – he kisses her – “I will, for you.”

She hits his chest. “No, for you.”

“Okay, okay, for me.”

He’s lying. Ben is certain, from now until forever, anything he does is never truly just for him. It’s for her, for them. Always.


	6. Ours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Fumbling, tickly, giggly sex

Leslie feels bad.

She feels bad for so many reasons. She’s nauseated and can’t get rid of this headache. She’s tired, so incredibly tired, and sometimes when Ben opens the refrigerator door, she wants to puke. And then scream. 

She feels bad that Ben is left to take care of most of the chores because sometimes standing makes her want to throw up or fall over or both. On the rare occasion that she’s feeling better, she sometimes can’t remember what it is she wanted to do and soon it’s already the afternoon and she accomplished nothing. Then, she gets cranky.

So she snaps at Ben, wants to puke, apologizes to Ben, thinks some more about puking, but also about eating five number two’s from Paunch Burger. She’s cried at least three times today. Once for dropping a shoe, once for yelling at Ben about how he folded the newspaper, and once because she’s so fucking tired. 

“Okay, get to bed.”

She’s sniffling and wiping tears that haven’t dropped yet when he commands her to go to bed. He’s always been a little too good at making sure she takes care of herself, but since being pregnant he’s somehow only gotten better. It’s infuriating because he doesn’t have dumb pregnancy brain and he can get what he wants done and force her to eat broccoli and tell her to go to bed like a hot, sexy, infuriating dictator.

“It’s six o’clock.”

“I don’t care, you’re cranky and tired.”

“You’re cranky and tired!” Leslie yells.

He laughs, and she’s mad at how cute he looks when he laughs. Unlike her, she doesn't look cute at all and she’s only three months pregnant. It’s only going to get worse.

She tightens her fingers into fists and stomps her foot.

“Don’t grind your teeth,” Ben warns, walking up to her.

“ _You_ don’t grind _your_ teeth.”

Ben smiles, a small laugh stuck in his throat as he reaches forward and pinches her side. Leslie jumps away from him, her jaw dropping.

“Hey!”

“What?” Ben teases, approaching her again, both hands out.

Leslie swats his hands away, but he doesn’t stop, catching her waist and tickling her before she can squirm away. She giggles, trying to turn away, but he’s faster than her. She grabs his wrists and he pulls his arms toward him, dragging her with them. Once she’s close enough, she tries to get away, screeching, as he dips his head, kissing and biting her neck while making some ridiculous sound. She lets go of him and his hands return to her sides, tickling.

She screams. She laughs. She might be crying, she might need to puke.

“B-e-e-e-n!”

“L-e-e-e-s-l-i-e-e-e-e.”

Leslie cackles, finally free from his grasp and runs straight into their bedroom, squealing as he follows close behind. He carefully catches her hand, spinning her and wrapping his arms around her. His mouth goes back to her neck, nipping and growling along her skin all the way down to her collarbone.

“This is unfair, I am weak!” she laughs.

Ben lifts up her shirt and Leslie raises her arms as he throws it off of her. Before she can put her arms down, he’s tickling her again and Leslie collapses backwards onto the bed, trying to crawl away from his fingers.

Leslie watches him crawl up the bed. He’s holding onto her ankles, trying to tickle her feet. He was massaging those feet only hours ago as she complained about something else. The guilt starts to crawl into her throat but then Ben gets a good grip on one ankle and tickles her foot and she bursts out into screams and laughter. The guilt lifts, along with her heart, and as he moves over her, tickling and growling, and mocking her protests, her heart completely overflows. 

He tugs off her pants and she knees him in the shoulder. He insists he’s fine but she moves quickly to touch the spot. When she gets closer, his face changes, and Leslie’s heart pounds in guilt.

“I’m sorry,” Leslie says.

She starts to descend the pregnancy-feel-sorry-for-yourself-24/7 hole, but Ben grabs her face and kisses her.

It stops all her thoughts, from worries, to self deprecating spirals, and she just kisses him. She leans into his body, feels the warmth of his skin and the soft moan that lines his tongue and dances along hers. They smile and bump teeth after she takes off his shirt, and his jeans join all her clothes on the floor soon after. They’re on their knees in the middle of their bed, in their house, their naked bodies pressed together. Leslie’s bump isn’t very big, but it’s bigger than the three months pictures she’s seen on the internet because she’s carrying too many babies. No, not too many. Just enough.

Ben moves his body so he can somewhat bypass her bump and get closer, causing them both to giggle.

“Come on guys, don’t get in my way of being with your mom yet,” Ben says between kisses, his fingers gliding over her stomach.

Leslie giggles. “Might as well get used to it now.”

“Might as well,” Ben agrees.

They both laugh, muffled by lips and crashing teeth. Her tongue slides out of his mouth, catching his cheek and they laugh some more.

“Look at you,” he says, holding her chin in his hand, his other softly tracing her between her legs. “Laughing.”

Leslie feels the ball in her throat start to rise. She blurts out that she’s sorry. Ben’s eyebrows furrow, his forehead resting on top of hers. He shakes his head as his fingers push down, sliding along her clit.

She gasps.

“Don’t be sorry. You have three monsters in there.”

Leslie giggles and Ben kisses her teeth.

“I’m still sorry.”

“I’m sorry you have to go through all this.” His fingers move lower, deeper. “I wish we could trade, like I could take pregnancy duty for a few days.”

Leslie laughs until Ben’s fingers push up into her. She gasps, gripping his shoulders. He’s slow and deep, his mouth on her neck and lips as he works. Pregnancy has been good to her in terms of this, sex. She cums so much easier and she’s always ready and wanting. She tightens around his fingers and moans as he kisses along her breasts, moving his hand faster below. 

“You -- ah! -- would look silly,” Leslie whispers.

Ben lifts his head and smiles at her. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

Ben curls and flicks his fingers as he thrusts into her and she feels incredibly unsteady on her knees. He whispers that he would look good pregnant and Leslie can’t help but giggle, even though everything inside her is burning, lifting, and numbing. She rocks against his hand and he twists his wrist just enough to plant his thumb on her clit and she says his name in a quick burst.

“That’s it, babydoll.”

She whimpers and rolls her hips once, twice, before she sinks her fingernails into his shoulders and her entire body engulfs in electricity.

Leslie tries to find her breathing again as she pulses around Ben’s fingers. He removes his hand and she trembles, falling back on the mattress. His fingers are wet as he rubs her thigh, her hips, her stomach. Leslie feels dizzy and sleepy, but her body still buzzes with want; if only she could get it to move.

Ben places a finger on her chin and moves her face so he can kiss her lips. They’re smiling into the kisses, giggling, laughing. Ben says he loves her and their teeth crash as she says the same.

Finally, her body moves, crawling over Ben’s and straddling his waist. He pinches her hips and she squirms and laughs, giggling and sighing as she sinks onto him.

He stretches and fills her perfectly and Leslie is quick to move her hips. His hair is so disheveled, his eyes half closed and jaw slack as she rides him. His hands move all over her torso and she’s incredibly thankful for how big they are, how warm. He smiles as he moans and she is so overwhelmed by this -- by fucking her husband, by fucking him in their bed in their house, while being pregnant with their children -- that she has to look away so she doesn’t cry. Tears fall anyway and Ben speaks between breaths as he nudges a tear off her chin.

“Honey, don’t cry.” 

He moans, head falling back before he lifts it back up again. He pushes his hips off the mattress, driving him deeper, just as he tickles her side.

“Hey,” Leslie sniffs, laughing. “No tickling while I’m up here.”

He does it again and she giggles, moving her hips faster. She grinds harder, quicker, until their giggles fade and his hand moves from her side to her breast and her tears stop falling. Until they’re both moaning and begging and they can’t breathe. Until their bodies stiffen and release and there’s nothing but them anymore. In their bed. In their home. In each other’s arms, with three babies growing between them.


	7. Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At a partner’s parents’ house (Leslie and Ben are invited to the christening of Ulani´s and Steve´s baby and have to stay one night at their house) :-xxx

“I had no idea your dad really liked boats.”

“He doesn’t, I think it’s just an easy design choice.”

Leslie nods, looking around the guest room. It definitely does have an overwhelming nautical theme to it. From the lighthouse lamp and the bedspread with sailboats printed on it to the anchors mounted on the wall to hold towels and coats. There’s even a mermaid ashtray and lots of framed artwork depicting many different boats.

Ben sighs, loosening his tie. Leslie watches him take off his jacket, unbutton his shirt, toe off his shoes. He’s almost thawing out from the day, from the entire trip really. But, in this oddly decorated guest room, he almost doesn’t look like he’s about to snap.

The door knocks and Ben jumps, his body winding back up again.

Leslie answers the door, Steve just on the other side. He looks just as grumpy and scary as ever, but it doesn’t really have an effect on her anymore.

“The baby cries at night,” he says. “Just thought I’d warn you.”

“Oh, of course, no problem at all!” Leslie chirps, trying to compensate for… something. Ben’s anxiety maybe? Steve’s overall demeanor?

“Sure, sure. Benny here,” Steve says, pointing to Ben, “he never cried. He was the best one.”

Leslie smiles, her heart lifting at the thought of little baby Ben, sleeping through the night. She’s not surprised, of course, Ben would sleep ten hours a night if he could.

“Aw, Ben.”

Ben smiles at her, then places his tie across the bedpost. Leslie hates to admit that she instantly thinks of something she shouldn’t while her father in law is in the room, but she’s only human. A human woman to be exact, with a sexy, lean, compact little sports car of a husband. 

“Well, that’s all, everything you could need is in here, Ulani set it up real nice.”

“Thank you, goodnight, Steve.”

“Night, dad.”

“Goodnight, see you in the morning.”

Leslie closes the door and spins around, her back pressed to the wood.

“You were a good baby.”

“I was, it’s everyone’s favorite thing to talk about. Well, until Ice Town.”

Leslie steps away from the door and takes Ben’s hand, leading him around the bed. 

“You need to relax,” she says, looking up at him from beneath her eyelashes.

Ben’s eyes widen before his lip tilts in a smirk.

“Oh yeah?”

Leslie nods, fingers undoing the clasp of his pants. His hands go to her waist, rub her hips, up to her rib cage, and back again. She sways, causing his hands to go where she wants them. She sighs when his thumbs move along her chest and bites her lip when his pants and underwear are finally gone. 

He’s growing and beautiful and she swears her mouth is watering.

“You’re going to put well behaved babies in me.”

Ben laughs, kissing her forehead. She wraps her fingers around his dick, making him gasp.

“I’ll try – woah – no promises.”

“Might as well try right now.”

Ben’s head rolls to the side, a low groan escaping from between his lips. Leslie loves this, turning him into this wanting, sexy, strong man with only her touch, her mouth, her words. He has the same effect on her of course, but she still lives for this; making him feel good.

She presses her thumb over the tip of his dick and then twists her wrist as she slides down the shaft and up again. Her other hand joins, massaging his balls and making him pant, “Fuck,” as his breaths get heavier, deeper, faster.

“Now? Here?” he asks, his eyes determined to stay open and focused on her.

“How about a deal?” Leslie says, slowly going to her knees and pushing him down so he’s sitting on the edge of the mattress. “I’ll be down here for awhile” – she gives his cock one quick lick and his hand pushes into her hair, gripping – “and you can use your tie and belt on me however you see fit. Preferably with your dick inside me.”

“Leslie,” Ben groans.

“Deal?”

“Deal.”

Leslie licks her lips and and takes a breath, or three, until she feels the want in his fingers gripping her hair and pulling her close. She smiles, flicking her eyes up to meet his.

He’s relaxed, she can feel it, she can see it, and she’s very proud of herself.

“Go on, babydoll, a deal’s a deal,” he teases.

He’s right, and she wants to make him feel good. And those well behaved babies.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song smut prompt: "Happily" by One Direction // AU of some kind

There was a lot of yelling. The angry, feel it in your bones, kind of yelling. The only kind of yelling that can come with years and years of missteps and misunderstandings, of hoping and heartbreaks.

_“Why are you with him? Him!”_

_“Stop yelling!”_

_“Why?”_

_“Why do you care?”_

There were so many, “Why’s” thrown around that he lost track of the times Leslie yelled at him, only for Ben to not answer her question, to ask again and again. He cursed so much and ran his hands through his hair over and over.

They hadn’t stopped fighting, not really, but there was this long drag of silence now. This was the only breath of silence they’d had since he followed her home from Ann’s engagement party. The party that brought Ben back to town, the one that put them back together for the first time in months.

Leslie wiped at her eyes and the gesture, so small and frustrated, brought Ben down from whatever crazed anger high he was on. He blinked and when his heart rate died down a little, when the calm swept him up, it only elevated the sadness and the desperation.

“Why?” Ben asked again, quieter.

“Because I don’t have you.”

The anymore hung in the air, unsaid, but still there. They, were once, together, they had been together for so long, but jobs drifted them apart and opportunities blocked them. They were only humans, just young people, and love didn’t stop reality, it only hurt it.

“You have me,” Ben said. He moved toward her and she took a step back and he stopped, hand outstretched, ready to touch her hair again. Good Lord, he missed her hair. Missed her. “You have me,” he said again, this time very quiet and broken, just like his life was now.

Leslie jumped into his arms and Ben grabbed her, held her, kissed her. He kissed her breathless, until there was no more oxygen, until each swipe of tongues and lips sent a spark into the air between them. Fireworks, there had to be fireworks going off around them, how else would the raging wildfire in his gut be explained?

“I shouldn’t,” Leslie said against his lips. “Ben.”

He dropped her and she fidgeted in place. Leslie had a boyfriend, that was what started this. 

Then, she took off her shirt and attacked him again, this time they both fell to the ground. 

Clothes left, until the familiarity of her skin against his overtook him. He touched every piece of her, she kissed every inch of him. He disappeared between her legs for song long, he was sure his knees were rubbed raw from the carpet and her back was sore from the constant arch. He smoothed his hands around her ass to her back and held it up for her, devoured her, remembered every other time they did this.

Ben lapped at her, soaked her in, fucked her with his tongue until he couldn’t breathe, and then kept going because fuck air, fuck anything that wasn’t Leslie Knope.

She came and he let her rest, only for a moment, and that’s all she needed because she sprang up and pushed him on his back, and sank onto him so fast he could hardly blink. He watched her move, looked where they connected, and told her how perfect it was.

Leslie fell against his chest and he fucked up into her, whispered, “You have me,” over and over against her lips until they were both panting and climbing and kissing and cumming.

He held her as she cried, as the guilt ate at her and the high of what they had done had warn off. They still kissed when he left, even if it was sad and full of tears. He apologized against her front door as if it could convey the message.

The next day, he was getting ready to leave. He’d be back for Ann’s wedding in a few months and maybe he’d unfairly yell at Leslie again, maybe his heart would break again.

Outside the Pawnee Super Suites, though, was her. Her, in a cinematic empty parking lot in a red raincoat and holding a multi-colored polka dot umbrella. He walked up to her and apologized and she shrugged, a smile fighting to break along her face until she finally let it win and she glowed. Even with tears falling down her cheeks, she glowed.

“Have me,” she said, “please, Ben, have me.” She sniffed, the happy kind, the kind he was so used to when they were together, before the late night phone calls and _I can’t come this week_ ’s. “I’m yours, if you’ll have me.”

“Happily,” Ben said.

He kissed her, the rain catching them both as her umbrella toppled to the ground and the past washed away.


	9. Protests and Reassurances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song smut prompt: "Treacherous" by Taylor Swift || End of the World AU

“Leslie, no.”

“No, I know, I know, I–”

But it was too late. It was way too late.

He kissed her again, deeper this time, the trace of his tongue hungry and determined, hers answering in their own desperate sweeps between his lips. She needed him, he could feel it and taste it, and, Good Lord, he needed her, too.

This break up was stupid, so stupid. And Leslie came to his house, after the world was supposed to end (his ended a long time ago) and stood there, thinking he could even fathom being with anyone else. He flirted with Shauna because he was a mean person now. He was a jerk, he’d always been an asshole, but now the world fucked him so he was going to rage across this earth and be mean. He was mean. He flirted with Shauna to make Leslie hurt because he was tired of being the only one hurting.

Which was insane, he knew that, but it didn’t mean he could stop.

Just like he couldn’t stop kissing her. He pulled her inside and shoved her so hard into the door, he’s not sure how she didn’t scream or the door didn’t break. He kissed her and then pushed himself off of her, breathing hard, and she grabbed him and kissed him back and his weak protests fell away to her reassurances, just like they always had.

He couldn’t get her clothes off fast enough. He dragged her into his room and she had his dick in her hands before he could even get her vest off. Why was removing her clothing so hard? 

Leslie twisted her wrist, gliding her thumb over the tip of his cock, and she whispered, “I miss you.”

“Fuck,” he hissed, grabbing her face in his hands and kissing her, pushing tears off her cheeks with his thumbs as he did.

He had to stop her and finally take the time to undress her, otherwise he was going to cum in her hand. She was as patient as he’d ever seen her, as if that small request and grip of his fingers on her wrist was just calming enough. He should back away, this is a perfect opportunity. 

But then her skin was in front of him, her tiny torso and curvy legs, perky breasts, and the curve of her hips. She was smiling, eyes glassy, and there was no fucking way he was letting this go again.

So he apologized and threw her on the bed and she giggled. The sweet sound of her giggling that he missed so much filled the room and he climbed over her, kissed her so her giggles evaporated into his mouth and down his throat, into his heart where they belonged, and then he pushed in.

It was slow and then fast and then snow again, deep and then shallow and then deep again. Leslie arched her back and Ben pushed in as far as he could, relishing in the moans and tremors through her body. It never seemed deep enough, never close enough, but he tried anyway. They both did.

They didn’t last very long, Ben felt 18 again in his haste. After, she flipped them so she was on top of him, and she pressed all of her weight on him and Ben kissed her head and ran his fingers through her hair. The sun’s light was still early and beautiful as it splashed across them.

It was quiet for so long that Ben was almost certain she had actually fallen asleep. Sleep was tugging at him, too, but he didn’t want to leave this moment, not yet. It turned out she wasn’t asleep, though, her fingers coming up his body to rest against his neck, pushing just slighting along his skin, raking her nails there. Goosebumps rose along his body and Ben sighed, kissing her head again.

“I’m happy,” he said. He swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. “I’m really happy.”

He felt her smile against his chest.

“Me too,” she said, “and let’s keep it that way, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, smiling.

They kissed and settled into his bed and he wrapped them up with his blanket into a cocoon built for two. There was no need to stay in this moment anymore, since he would have them forever, so he fell asleep.


	10. Listening, Missing, Loving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You ever not reblog a prompt meme and then just pick one yourself and write it? That's what I did! Prompt: "It's okay. I couldn't sleep anyway." College AU || This is really just an experiment if I want to pursue some kind of long distance romance thing in my original writing so like, enjoy, I guess??? Love you.

“Hey, sorry – I’m sorry it’s so late.”

“It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

Leslie’s lips pull just enough to show the edge of a smile. She stares at the alarm clock, 3:22 staring at her, boring into her, guilting her. 

The night guilts her. 

There was a time when the night was her friend, when the sun would go down and her muscles would relax and rejuvenate, her mind reeling and unstoppable. There was promise in the stars and productivity lingering through the chill air. She would keep her windows open so she could feel it all, as if the moonlight was guiding her to do her best work, her best thinking, write her best papers, and ingest the best passages from books. It was in the night that she was her truest self, maybe, or perhaps just the most honest version. The version that let things get to her, let things be hard, and acknowledge the climb she was making. 

Maybe the sun masked her, but she couldn’t help but love the way its rays made her warm and awake again, off for another adventure. 

Now, the sun distracts her. It’s nice to be distracted.

Then night comes, and with it darkness and sadness and the still of everything. Instead of awakening, everything goes to sleep and the quiet halts her brain and there’s only one thing to think about.

Ben.

“Are you okay?” he asks. His voice is laced with sleep, like he really was asleep and he’s lied to her. 

“Yes.”

She can lie, too.

He sighs and it makes that loud crackling sound through the receiver. There’s a small grunt, too, which makes her think he’s turning or sitting up in bed. She imagines his bedspread, the one they picked out when they went shopping for their dorm supplies months ago. His bedspread was cheap and nondescript, a blue that had a reverse side of blue and white stripes, the material stiff and unremarkable. It must smell like him now, like fresh soap, numbers, and hungry kisses.

“Oh, good Lord, do I miss you.”

His declaration is nothing new, but it sends a jolt of electricity straight to her heart and a fresh tear to her eye. He says it to her practically daily, but there’s something so sad and low in his voice right now, the “you” almost a desperate whisper. She has these moments, too, as if she can just say his name enough, or think of the feeling of his hand in hers, or his lips on her cheek, or his hair in her hands, and he’ll just appear and her chest can rise and fall without that familiar ache.

“I miss you, too.”

There’s silence. There’s so much silence between them. It’s quiet when they sit on the phone while they study, the rhythm of Ben turning pages in a textbook better than any study playlist she’s made (and she’s made many). Sometimes he puts his phone right next to his laptop so there’s a rapid tap-tap-tap from his keyboard that vibrates the phone and encourages her to work faster, to be better, which is so ridiculous. But it’s true. 

One time, he stopped her while she was reading to let her know that she was whispering the passages she really liked and he asked if she was highlighting them.

“I’m sorry,” she said, Ben making her cheeks turn pink while simultaneously being 900 miles away.

“No, no,” he said. “I like it.”

There are times when she’s reading under the tree by the science building and he’s on the phone eating breakfast. There’s silence between them, but she can hear the bustle of the campus coffee shop, the foaming milk and the calls of names. When she hears the barista say his name, Leslie chirps, “Your disgusting black coffee is ready.”

And he says, “I put sugar in my coffee now because of you, babydoll,” and there’s that electric shock going through her bloodstream again.

Leslie grabs Toothy, her stuffed shark Ben got her a few years ago. She was on the swim team, and while their high school mascot was the puppies, he thought a shark was a better trophy for a swim meet. He’s a big guy and Leslie’s cuddle buddy ever since she went off to IU.

She nestles Toothy in her lap, wrapping her arm around him, squeezing, as she holds the phone to her ear with her other hand. She listens to Ben breathe, steady and slowing, but she knows he’s not asleep. He hums when he starts to fall asleep, these little soft sounds as he drifts.

“I keep thinking,” Ben says, quiet and rough, “this’ll get easier.”

Ben doesn’t talk about this, the distance, the frustration of miscommunications and missed calls and unanswered texts. He lets it roll off his back and he deals by telling her about his day or listening to her babble about some guy who wouldn’t shut up in her history class. He deals by being a rock, being supportive and stoic, not showing that he’s hurting, even though she knows, of course she knows, that he is.

She’s the one who says it’s hard, she’s the one who whines and pouts on the phone that she misses his butt and wants to kiss him. Ben’s versions of these are a little more x-rated and make her turn to hot lava, but she’s the one who acknowledges, outloud, that this sucks. She’s the one who cries over a missed phone call and the one who over thinks what he means when he says he was with someone named Rebecca, studying. She’s the one not dealing well. 

“We found a groove,” Leslie tries. This is usually Ben’s job, he’s the one who puts out all her fires. Her own personal firefighter.

“I know. I know.” He sighs. “I’m just fucking sick of it.”

His anger stings and she takes a deep breath so as not to not let the anger infiltrate her and take her down. There have been plenty of times that she’s been angry and he always stays steady.

“Hey, Benjamin Walker Wyatt,” Leslie says, so soft and gentle, and hopefully not shaking like she feels her throat doing, “I love you.”

“I love you,” he says quickly, as if realizing he’s lost himself a little. “I love you. I love you.”

Leslie smiles, squeezing Toothy.

“I love you,” she says.

“Kiss.”

“Kiss.”

She smiles and lets a tear fall but she refuses to sniff because he’ll know. 

“Don’t cry, babydoll.”

“Damnit, I thought I was being sneaky.”

“Not that sneaky,” Ben says, his playful voice making her giggle and sniff and cry. “I want to make you go to sleep, but I also have a crazy idea.”

“What’s your crazy idea?” Leslie asks, wiping her eyes with Toothy’s fin.

“Stay on the phone until class.”

Leslie bites her lip and flops back in bed, turning on her side so the phone can stay cradled between her ear and the pillow, leaving both arms open to cuddle Toothy.

“Oh yeah?” Leslie says.

“Yeah.”

He’s proposed this “crazy idea” before, and it always ends with them falling asleep as the sun comes up. One of them is usually late for class (Ben) and the other one runs into class with their shirt on backwards (Leslie).

However, there’s always something so romantic about him wanting to stay on the phone. It’s unlike him, with his texts at midnight that are all about her going to sleep, how he doesn’t like to lose sleep, how it seems as impulsive as a trip to Paris. 

Ben asks if she remembers when they went camping last spring break and how she got eaten by bugs and he got poison oak. She giggles and squirms under her covers, nodding and telling him it was torture not to touch him until it cleared up. He tells her about the final he’s been worrying about and she assures him he’ll be fine. He’s always fine. He’s the smartest man he knows.

And it’s in the middle of praising him, that he starts that humming rhythm and Leslie squeezes Toothy even tighter and closes her eyes; listening, missing, loving, and falling asleep.


End file.
